Twelve Days to Christmas
by Pokeyshadow
Summary: 12 days before Christmas Neal is kidnapped by a serial killer. Written for the LJ December Advent Calendar


"Sorry, I'm late." Peter rushed into the conference room, knowing all eyes were on him. He glanced around. "Where's Neal?"

"We thought he was coming with you" Diana answered.

"No. I had to drop Elizabeth off...I hate traffic this time of the year." He took out his cell. "Neal was supposed to meet me here." He dialed and listened, frowning when the call went unanswered.

"Jones, pull up his tracking..."

"We can't boss" Diana put forth. "He was off the anklet yesterday and you told him to go home."

"Right" Peter muttered as he quickly dialed another number, walking out of the room in the process.

"Peter is something wrong?" Jones entered Peter's office.

"I don't know." Peter sat back and rubbed his face. "June said he never came home last night and Mozzie hasn't talked to him."

"Peter, he's off the anklet. Do you think...?"

"No." Peter stood abruptly. "He didn't run and I don't want to hear that again." Peter glanced out the window and then grabbed his jacket. "I'm going to his place. Make some phone calls and see if you can trace his steps after he left us."

Peter raced out, stopping briefly to inform his boss he was leaving.

Peter was officially worried. They had traced Neal's credit card and he had made a purchase near June's mansion and that was the last sign of him. That was over thirty-six hours ago...

"Peter!" Hearing his name, he looked out and noticed the two NYPD officers.

"Jones, what is it?" He grabbed the picture from his agent's hand.

"That was dropped off at the 9th precinct this morning" Jones explained. "It seems the Christmas Killer is back."

"The Christmas Killer" Peter quietly repeated as he stared at the picture. It had been years since he heard that term.

"Boss, is that Neal?"

Peter continued to stare at the picture, his gut telling him what his mind wouldn't accept. The build was similar as was the hair but the victim was blindfolded and his head was lowered. He knew it was Neal but he couldn't voice it.

"Peter, what's going on?" Hughes neared the group. "Any leads on Caffrey?"

Peter handed him the picture. "They think the Christmas Killer has Neal."

Hughes swore under his breath.

"Who is this killer?" Diana asked.

"He hasn't been heard from in a few years" Jones explained. "Fascinating case...he kidnaps his victim twelve days before Christmas and plays Russian roulette every day..."

"Allegedly" Peter piped in. "He sends the pictures to the police and if the pictures stop..." Peter slowly sat.

"If they stop" Jones continued, "it means the victim is dead. And if the victim lives to Christmas he sets them free."

"Anyone survive?"

Peter glanced her way. "One" he quietly replied. "But she was so traumatized she committed suicide six months after being freed."

"What are we all standing around for?" Hughes gestured wildly. "Start going over the old cases and make calls. Find out everything you can about this guy." He glanced at the officers. "I want full cooperation with the NYPD. This is my man and I want him found." They all scurried off except Peter, who sat numbly with his head lowered.

"Burke! Look at me!" Peter slowly obliged. "Get your head in the game. I need all men on this. Otherwise go home."

Peter's eyes widened as comprehension set in. "I'm not going home" he said evenly, standing.

"Good. Follow me." In his office, Hughes found a business card. "Mike Tama is the superintendent at the 9th precinct. Call him and tell him to keep this quiet. If this man finds out that Caffrey works for us..."

"Reese, you can't be sure that's Neal."

"Peter, its Neal and we both know it. Go!"

Slowly, Hughes sank down. If they lost Caffrey this way, he was going to lose Peter also.

* * *

"Get up." Neal's head jerked up and he grimaced in pain from the kick to his shin. He tried to gain his bearings but all he saw was darkness due to the blindfold. He remembered buying a scarf for June and that was all; next time he awoke he was blindfolded and shackled to a wall with handcuffs. He thought he could free himself but he couldn't see his surroundings so he wasn't sure there was an escape route.

"Are you ready for the game to begin?" Instantly Neal tensed.

"I am holding in my hands two revolvers, only one bullet. There are twelve days to Christmas. Each day I'll put the gun to your head and pull the trigger. If you're lucky you will survive to the next day. If not, the game is over."

"You're insane" Neal spit out as he tugged at the handcuffs.

"Maybe. Maybe not." The kidnapper laughed. "If you get loose I'll put a bullet between your eyes so stop fighting the cuffs."

Neal stopped moving. "Why me?" he asked between breaths.

"Wrong place at the right time" the man answered. "Ready to begin?"

"Do I have a choice?" Neal shifted on the hard floor, bracing himself for the inevitable. The man neared him.

"Say your prayers."

Neal felt the cold metal against his forehead and the sound of the trigger being cocked. He held his breath as the trigger released. Nothing happened.

"Your lucky day. Time for breakfast." He heard the maniacal laughter lessen as the kidnapper walked away. Neal let out a breath as he frantically pulled at the cuffs. Wetness gathered under the blindfold and he tried to wipe his face against his shoulder.

"Peter, help me" he pleaded.

* * *

"Peter, we got another one." Jones dropped the picture next to the first one and this time there was no mistake that the victim was Neal. Peter picked it up and studied it, mostly focusing on Neal. His arms were tethered above his head by simple handcuffs; cuffs that Neal could easily escape from.

"Why hasn't he tried to escape?" Peter asked, glancing at his team.

"He might not be alone" Diana suggested. "And we don't know what kind of room that is. If he does escape can he get out of there?"

"We have to do something." Peter slammed the picture down and shot up, pacing around the table, looking for suggestions.

"Did they see who dropped the picture off?"  
Jones shook his head. "It's left in a different place every time and you can't watch everywhere."

"They have to. Tell them to get more men on this."

"Peter calm down." Hughes entered the conference room. "We are working on this twenty-four hours a day. When he screws up, we'll know. Now sit."

Hughes waited for Peter to sit before seating himself at the head of the table. "We learned from the survivor that the kidnapper doesn't inflict any other injuries. He also allows them to eat; if Neal is smart he'll keep his strength up and run if he gets a chance."

"If" Peter muttered with a shake of his head. "We can't just sit here while my partner is out there somewhere."

"Peter, if you have any suggestions, we're listening."

Peter looked away.

"OK." Hughes stood. "Study the new picture. Look for any clues that might tell us where that room is." The agents filed out one by one.

"Peter." Hughes stopped him with his hand. "Go home and get some rest."

"I can't..."

"That wasn't a suggestion. We'll call you if anything changes."

* * *

Neal's arms ached but he didn't dare free them. In the time he had been held captive he learned to rely on his other senses. Having never felt the sun he knew the room had no windows. He knew the door had at least three locks, one a deadbolt. There was a kitchen in a nearby room; he could smell food cooking several times a day.

He was fed three meals a day; one arm was released and the kidnapper sat nearby with the gun aimed at Neal while he ate his food.

The kidnapper spoke only when necessary and said little.

Neal pleaded for his release only once and that was met with laughter; so he kept quiet and he planned and he wondered what the others thought.

Did they think he ran? Was Peter worried? Mostly he wondered if he'd ever see them again. He heard footsteps and readied himself. Day two of the game and each day his odds lowered. The locks were undone and Neal was sure there were three.

"A new day" the kidnapper announced brightly. "Say your prayers."

He lowered himself and Neal could smell his breath. He thought about kicking him in the groin but that wouldn't give him enough time to escape. There had to be another way...if he had the chance to figure it out.

He felt the gun and held his breath as the trigger was released.

"Another day to live" the man said as he stood with a slight groan. Neal drew up his legs and took a few deep breaths; he had another twenty-four hours to plan his escape.

* * *

Peter drove aimlessly through the crowded streets of downtown Manhattan. The streets were bustling with shoppers trying to find the perfect last minute gifts. It wasn't right in Peter's mind. Neal was somewhere with a madman and life went on for everyone else. He wanted to pull down the window and scream; tell everyone that Christmas was cancelled but that wouldn't do anything but get him put away and it certainly wouldn't help Neal.

Not that they were helping Neal. Six days to Christmas and they knew he was still alive. But they were no closer to finding him than the day he had disappeared.

With nowhere to go he turned around and headed home.

* * *

With each passing day Neal lost a little more hope; and faith that Peter was going to find him. He no longer flinched when the nozzle was pointed at his head; but he hadn't given up and one way or the other he was getting out of there. He managed to get his right hand free and in the dead of night he lowered the blindfold and squinted in the darkness. He was right about the windows and with no light he couldn't fathom an escape plan.

He noticed a difference when he was eating so there must have been a light somewhere. He took his left hand out and slowly crawled around until he found the other wall. He stood on wobbly legs and with the mindset of a man who had nothing to lose; he found the light switch and turned it on.

He blinked, blinded by the sudden light after days of darkness and it took several minutes for him to focus. He wished he hadn't. As his eyes took in the small room, he realized it was some kind of closet with no means to the outside world.

Devastated, he slowly checked out the door and knew there was no way of picking the locks. He was trapped, like an animal, with a deranged madman playing a game.

Neal always considered himself a lucky man but he didn't want to see this game through and wasn't convinced he'd be set free if he survived to Christmas. He thought he heard movement and he turned off the light, lunging to his spot as he heard him on the other side. He put his blindfold in place and his hands in the cuffs just as the door was opened.

"I thought I heard something" the kidnapper muttered as he turned the light on and studied his prisoner. He walked closer and checked the cuffs and then the blindfold.

"You better not be playing with me." He kicked Neal who managed to stifle his groan. "If you don't play this through I will find someone else to continue the game."

It was several more minutes until he left and Neal let out a sigh of relief.

Morning came and with the sunrise another round of the game.

"Say your prayers."

Neal laughed. "If God heard me, you'd be dead" he said chuckling.

"The other gun was empty so the bullet must be in this one. Your odds are decreasing."

"And you're a coward. Put the gun down and fight me like a man."

"There's no fun in that." He lowered himself to the ground and Neal felt the familiar metal against his forehead.

The trigger released and nothing happened. Neal laughed. "You're going to be a dead man" he called out as the kidnapper left. And then he cried.

* * *

"Peter!" Jones raced through the office. "It just came, it was late." He placed the picture on Peter's desk. "He only has two days left. Peter he can do this."

Peter looked up, utterly defeated. "Do we really know it's the same person? Maybe it's a copycat who has no intention of letting Neal go."

"Peter you can't give up. Neal is still alive."

"Is he?" Peter glanced at all the pictures. "Does he look alive? Can you see any sign of movement?"

Peter shook his head. "For all we know, Neal has been dead since the first day and some lunatic is playing with us."

"Peter, don't."

"Don't what?" He stood angrily. "Can you tell me that Neal is alive?"

Jones took one step back, realizing that Peter was someone who couldn't be reasoned with at that moment. "Peter, don't give up on your friend. We haven't and we're still looking." Slowly he backed out of the office.

* * *

He had made it to Christmas day. He knew there were two barrels left and one bullet. Odds were even but he wasn't taking the chance. He was getting out of there on his own terms. He removed the cuffs and the blindfold and slowly stretched his muscles until he could walk with no pain. And then he squatted by the door and he waited.

He heard footsteps and tried to control his breathing as one by one each lock clicked. Slowly the door opened and the light came on.

"What...?"

Neal rammed into the larger man and they both went down and the gun tumbled out of the kidnapper's hand. Neal went for it but his head hit the ground and he cried out in pain.

"You were so close" Neal heard as the other man lunged for the gun. Neal shook his head and then grabbed a leg, throwing himself at the kidnapper like a wild animal. He punched and he kicked and he slapped at any body part he could reach, ignoring the fists that were slamming into his own face. And when the kidnapper briefly went down he reached for the gun and aimed, trying to focus through blood and pain.

The kidnapper stood and smiled. "You can't do this. You have to play the game." He took one step forward.

Neal took a step back, with the gun shaking between his hands, the pain unbearable.

"Say your prayers" Neal said through clenched teeth. He pulled the trigger and slowly his world faded to black.

* * *

Christmas day came and they waited but the picture never came. Hours passed and Hughes released his agents, telling them to go home and spend the rest of the day with their families. The older man approached Peter.

"Peter, go home." He reached for Peter's shoulder but the agent wouldn't allow it; he didn't want the comfort.

"Peter, he didn't make it."

"We don't know that."

"We do." Hughes tried to reason. "In a week or two we'll get a note where the body is and we'll bring Neal home."

"Don't." Peter waved him away. "He could have escaped." Desperately he searched the faces of his remaining team.

"Boss, we'll do what you want." He smiled at Diana, grateful for her loyalty and then glanced at Jones. Both were willing to follow his lead.

"Peter." He eyed his boss.

"If he escaped, he'll call you. There's no need to sit here and wait. If you hear from him, we'll find him."

Peter's shoulders sagged as the fight drained from him. "He's my partner" he whispered, as his eyes darted around the room; finally he lowered his head knowing all eyes were on him.

"Go home" he told them, refusing to look up. He drove for nearly two hours on the mostly deserted streets, his eyes searching for the one person he knew he wasn't going to find. Finally, after several frantic phone calls from Elizabeth, he turned the car around and headed home.

* * *

He stared at the TV through blinding tears; Elizabeth held his hand as the sun slowly set, both grateful that this Christmas was almost over. His cell rang and he glanced at the unknown number. Against his better judgment he picked it up.

"Hello."

_Peter?_

"Neal!"He jumped off the sofa. "Neal is that you?" Elizabeth followed him.

_Peter, help me. _

"Neal, where are you? Did you escape?"

_I killed him._

Peter glanced at his wife. "Neal, I'll come get you. Where are you?"

_I don't know. _

Peter whispered to his wife. "Call Jones and tell him to meet me at the office." She nodded and grabbed her cell.

"Neal, keep talking to me. I'm going to the office and we'll trace this call. Can you stay on the line buddy?"

_Yeah_.

Peter kissed his wife and ran out of the house. By the time he got to the office his whole team was back as was Hughes.

It took them an hour to trace the call and another two to find the old building that Neal was being kept hostage.

Peter raced through the abandon building until he found an apartment that had lights. "Jones, back me up." With guns drawn they entered, finding the closet first. Jones bent down. "He's dead." Peter looked around the small room, at the handcuffs and the little bucket nearby.

"Let's find Neal." They ran through the other rooms until they found one with a makeshift kitchen and a small TV.

"Neal!"

"Peter..." Peter took a deep calming breath as he heard Neal whisper his name.

"He's behind the chair" Jones quietly said. Nodding Peter headed that way, falling to his knees as he peeked around.

"Hey Neal." His partner was leaning against the wall with his face resting on his drawn up knees. Slowly he lifted his head. Peter's eyes widened as he saw the blood dripping down Neal's face.

"I don't want to go to jail" Neal whispered as he wiped at the blood near his eye.

"You're not going to jail. I promise you." Peter motioned with his hand. "Can you come to me?"

Neal stared at Peter, comprehension setting in; this was over. He was free and Peter was there. So close; every movement hurt as he crawled on his hands and knees to Peter; to his friend. "Peter?" He eked out with one hand reaching, hoping he wasn't seeing things.

"I've missed you" Peter said as he pulled Neal to him, settling the ex-con in his lap, holding him tight. "You're safe" he whispered as he rocked Neal in his arms, feeling the younger man shake against him. Peter glanced up as other officers arrived and he didn't care that he was crying. "You're safe" Peter repeated as he rested his chin on Neal's head, and for the moment nothing else mattered.

"Sir, we need to check him out." Peter lifted his head, quelling the anger that inexplicably surfaced; reluctantly he pushed Neal away.

"Let the men do their job" Peter whispered as Neal clung tighter to his jacket.

"No." Neal fought with the little strength he had left. "Peter, please."

"Neal, look at me." The commanding tone worked and Neal stop fighting and turned, meeting Peter's gaze. The agent smiled through his tears. "I'm right here Neal. Let them check your face and then we'll go home."

If only it was that simple. The cut required stitches and the bump on Neal's head was concerning as was Neal finally admitting he had passed out for several hours. The ride to the hospital was quiet; Neal held tight to Peter's hand.

After several stitches and a CT scan to rule out a concussion, the doctor wanted to keep Neal overnight. The ex-con had other ideas.

"Peter. No doors. I can't." He took a deep breath. "I won't promise I'll be here in the morning." Peter nodded in understanding. He left Neal alone and found the doctor; after a heated conversation and several forms to fill out Peter escorted Neal out, AMA.

Peter opened the back door and waited for Neal to slide in.

"Thank you for picking us up" he said, climbing into the passenger seat.

"No problem boss." Diana started the car. "Where to?"

"My place" he replied and then waited for the protest from the back seat. When none came he relaxed into the seat and closed his eyes.

"Neal, how are you?" At the red light Diana glanced over her shoulder.

"Just a bump on the head" Peter answered as he turned and saw the CI with his eyes closed. "He'll be fine" Peter added with a shrug, as he caught Diana's eyes. Physically Neal would be fine. The rest was unknown.

"Hughes said he'll call you tomorrow but for now you two are both on indefinite leave."

"Noted" Peter muttered. Translation; they would both see counselors until they were released to go back to work.

"They'll be coming to your house tomorrow to take Neal's statement."

Peter nodded. "Do they think it's the same killer?"

"So far... yes." Diana whistled. "Neal took down a serial killer. I'm sure he'll get a commendation for that."

Hope it was worth it Peter silently mused as they drove the rest of the way in silence.

Elizabeth greeted them at the door; a quick kiss for Peter and a tentative hug for Neal who melted into her arms, seeking comfort.

"Are you hungry?" she asked as he pulled away and staggered towards the sofa.

"Clinton brought that by" Elizabeth quietly said, pointing towards a suitcase. Peter had asked Jones to stop by Neal's apartment and gather some clothing; all along his plan was to bring Neal to his home though he was rather surprised by how easily Neal went along with his idea.

"Hon, can you make some soup? I'll drag him upstairs so he can shower."

"Sounds like a plan." Elizabeth glanced at the sofa with concern; Neal was too quiet and it was unnerving. A gentle hand grasped her arm and she smiled at her husband. Neal would be fine, they would both see to that.

They sat with Neal as he plowed through two bowls of soup and half a loaf of bread. Words were few and far between; about the dog and Elizabeth's job and anything but the bureau and the past two weeks.

"I'll get the guestroom ready." Elizabeth stood.

"Peter. No." Neal turned towards the agents, eyes pleading.

"El, he can sleep down here tonight. I'll stay with him." Elizabeth didn't understand but she let it go; trusting her husband to know what was best for Neal.

"I'll take the dog with me."

After she left Peter grabbed a couple of blankets and a pillow and tossed them on the sofa. He waited for Neal to get comfortable before he settled himself on the floor with his back against the sofa.

"Neal, you ok?"

"Yeah!" Neal had inched to the edge so his face was close to Peter's head. "You don't need to stay once I fall sleep" the CI whispered.

There was no way he was leaving but Peter kept that to himself. He felt a tug on his shirt collar and smiled.

"Peter, why didn't you find me?"

After twenty minutes of silence that was the last question Peter expected and he bristled at the accusation, though there was no malice in Neal's words.

"We tried Neal. Believe me; we did everything possible to find you. Beyond the pictures there were no clues."

"What pictures?"

Peter turned his head, finding himself nose to nose with his partner. "He sent us pictures of you to taunt us. I saw the handcuffs and I hoped you could get away. Why didn't you do it earlier?"

Neal shifted to his back, with his eyes staring at the ceiling. "I don't know" he admitted. "The blindfold...I didn't know my surroundings and I wasn't sure if I could get out of the room. Mostly I think I knew he'd find someone else if I did escape and I didn't want that to happen." He turned to his side and wrapped an arm around Peter. "Every time I close my eyes I hear him. Say your prayers" Neal whispered hauntingly, causing Peter to shiver slightly. "He said that every time he pulled the trigger."

"This isn't going to work" Peter wriggled away from Neal's arm. "Come on get up." Peter sat down and grabbed the pillow, placing it on his lap. "Lay down" he ordered. Neal smiled gratefully before complying, once again shifting to his side.

"Close your eyes Neal." Peter picked up a book and started reading; it didn't matter what it was as long as it was his voice Neal heard. It didn't take long for Neal to drift off and Peter kept reading until he was sure Neal had fallen into a deep sleep. Finally he put the book down and closed his eyes; the sounds of Neal's even breathing lulled Peter into his own darkness.

* * *

"Mozzie. June, thank you for coming over early." Elizabeth motioned them in. "My help is busy being a security blanket at the moment." They glanced towards the sofa where Neal was sound asleep, leaning against Peter.

June smiled. "I think Christmas today is a great idea." Two weeks after being found, Neal finally wanted to celebrate Christmas. Elizabeth led the older woman to the kitchen.

"How is he?" Mozzie asked as he neared them. Except for a brief phone call, Mozzie hadn't seen or talk to Neal since his ordeal had ended. Very few had.

"He's doing ok" Peter said as he stretched his arm around Neal. "Nights are still tough but he naps frequently during the day."

Mozzie sat in the chair. "Has his head been shrunk yet?"

Peter smiled. "Yes, he's seeing a shrink and she's releasing him to go back to work. And he wants to move home."

Neal stirred and opened his eyes. "Hey Moz." He straightened up but kept close to Peter. "How are you?"

"Good. Glad to see you finally."

"Sorry." Neal smiled. "It's been a tough couple of weeks but I'm ready to start living again."

"We all are" Peter said as he stood and grabbed a bottle of wine. He poured three glasses and handed them out.

"To life" Peter toasted.

"To life" they echoed and clicked the glasses together.


End file.
